


The Climb

by NotByHalfs



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, No betas we die like your inting teammates, Rating May Change, Will add more tags as applicable
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28306917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotByHalfs/pseuds/NotByHalfs
Summary: One day, Ezreal receives a strange dream, telling him to climb Mount Targon. He would have dismissed it entirely, were it not for a strange rock appearing in his room, that had also been in the dream.Things only escalate from there.(Rating is currently for language, and violence in later chapters.)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	1. Prologue

The bitter, stinging cold was what shocked Ezreal awake first. It felt like being slapped by a giant, icy hand, and he reacted accordingly.

“What the f-”

The expletive was snatched out of his mouth by a gust of wind. Shivering in the wake of the gust, and noting that he was _not_ in his bed in Piltover, Ezreal sat up and took stock of himself.

Magic gauntlet, useful for teleporting, and blowing up obstacles and/or things trying to kill him? Check. Clothes? Check. Goggles? Check. _Well,_ Ezreal thought to himself, _that’s something at least_. He gave the rest of himself a once over, and, noting that everything still seemed to be attached, he leapt to his feet. Scanning his surroundings, although helpful in getting his brain to wake up faster by giving it something to focus on, yielded little in the way of information. The fog, swirling and white around him, prevented Ezreal from seeing anything meaningful, save the ice and rock underneath him.

_Well, this is obviously a mountain of some kind_ , Ezreal thought to himself. _Perhaps I’ve somehow been teleported into Freljord? Nah, its cold, but not that cold. “_ Where the hell am I then _?”_ He said to himself, trying to figure out how exactly he’d gotten into this situation.

“YOU ARE NOWHERE ON RUNETERRA, CHILD.”

The otherworldly voice came from everywhere and nowhere, and more importantly to Ezreal, it was so loud it gave him a splitting headache, which only added to his rapidly growing list of irritations.

“Okay, what the hell?” Ezreal demanded, his patience rapidly thinning. “First I get teleported to who knows where, and its freezing cold, now I get yelled at by- whatever you are? What is this? Also, I’m not a child!”

“YOU HAVE NOT BEEN TELEPORTED, EZREAL. WE ARE CURRENTLY INSIDE YOUR MIND. HUMANS WOULD CALL IT A VISION, OR A DREAM.”

Ezreal calmed somewhat at hearing this information, albeit not entirely. “So, this is some lucid dream bullshit that I’m going to forget when I wake up? Cool,” he snarked.

“EZREAL, WHILE YOUR FRUSTRATION IS UNDERSTANDABLE, PLEASE LISTEN. WHAT YOU ARE HEARING IS GRAVELY IMPORTANT, AND YOU WILL REGRET IT IF YOU DON’T HEED THESE WORDS.”

Ezreal was taken aback by the mysterious voices sudden shift in tone, and nodded attentively. “Okay, I’m listening, although I still don’t understand anything.”

“GO TO MOUNT TARGON. CLIMB TO THE SUMMIT. WHAT YOU FIND THERE WILL CHANGE THE COURSE OF HISTORY.”

Ezreal scoffed. “Well, that’s awfully vague. Why the hell should I do this?” He shivered again, the cold beginning to get to him.

“YOU ARE KNOWN AS THE GRAND MASTER EXPLORER, ARE YOU NOT? WHY WOULD YOU NOT WANT TO GO SOMEWHERE YOU HAVE NOT BEEN YET?”

“That’s fair, but why should I listen to some random trippy dream I had?” Ezreal retorted.

“YOU WANT PROOF THAT THIS ISN’T JUST A DREAM? FINE. WHEN YOU WAKE UP, YOU WILL FIND A ROCK ON THE NIGHTSTAND, PERFECTLY ROUND, AND WITH THE WORD “CLIMB” CARVED INTO IT. THERE IS NO MORE TIME TO EXPLAIN, YOU MUST WAKE UP NOW.”

“Wait wha-”

* * *

Ezreal sat bolt upright in his bed so fast his goggles flew off his head, the vision- dream? Whatever the hell that was- imprinted in his mind. He looked to his right, out the window of his flat, and then froze, remembering what the “vision” had said would be on the nightstand, to his left.

_Come on Ez, its just a dream._ He thought to himself. _No way I actually got a vision from some inhuman being telling me to go climb Mount Targon, along with some mumbo-jumbo about “changing the course of history”_.

Feeling much less concerned, he casually looked to his left, even grinning to himself a little, until he looked at the nightstand, and the grin fell off his face entirely.

There it was. The spherical rock the vision had mentioned, black as night, with the word “Climb” engraved on it in gold.

Ezreal looked at it, picked it up, tossed it in his hand, pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t still dreaming, and then said to his empty room:

“Well shit.”

Swinging himself off the bed and looking into the mirror on the other side of his room, he saw his own ocean-blue eyes staring back at him, and said, after some contemplation, to his reflection:

“Guess this is real, huh? Well, I’m not called the Grand Master Explorer for nothing, I guess.”

With that statement bolstering his confidence a little, Ezreal ran a hand through his hair, thought for a bit, picked up his goggles from the floor, then dashed out the door, on his way to the Piltover Library. As he sprinted, he thought somewhat frantically; _what the hell have I gotten myself into this time._

* * *

Ezreal was quite out of breath by the time he got to the Piltover City Library, and he silently thanked whatever gods and goddesses were out there for Piltovers love of knowledge. The library was colossal, with it’s elegant bronze latticework and marble pillars, and an outsider would have been forgiven for thinking such a fancy looking building was a distinguished scientific lab, or something else similarly prestigious and expensive.

Having regained some of his breath admiring the library, he walked up the steps, pushed the heavy stone doors open, and went inside.

The inside of the library was just as majestic as the outside, although a tiny bit more subdued. The entire building was full of rows upon rows of bookshelves, all of them touching the ceiling. Rushing past the front desk, he made a beeline for the section on Targonian mythology. After a few minutes of searching for books, he grabbed what he had managed to find, taking it with him back to the front of the library where all the desks were kept. Gently putting them down on top of the wooden surface, Ezreal sat and began to read.

* * *

Several hours later, and having read multiple books on Mount Targon, he was not filled with confidence. Quite the opposite in fact. Ezreal was on the verge of panic, and the main reason he was not presently panicking was because he was telling himself borderline hysterically, _I am the Grand Master Explorer of Piltover. Traversing hilariously dangerous terrain is what I do for a living. Why am I worried? Shurima was awful, but I survived that, and without my gauntlet to begin with._

Ezreal then looked at the most recent book he was reading and remembered why exactly he was borderline panicking in the first place.

The tome itself was ancient, with its yellowing pages, plain leather binding and the title of “ _Testimonies of Mount Targon Survivors”._ With some trepidation, he continued where he left off, which utterly failed at filling him with confidence.

Particularly notable to Ezreal was the bit about “ _the bodies of the dead on the mountain frozen in place, sometimes mid climb”_ and the bit about “ _Everlasting winter that makes Freljordian winter look like a mild breeze in spring”._

With such passages holding weight in his mind, Ezreal moved a lantern closer, and grabbed a second, smaller, red-bound book titled “ _The Spiritual and Supernatural of Targon”._ He flipped it open and began to read some more.

As he read it, he wasn’t sure if it made him more or less concerned. He wrote down in his notebook the descriptions of “Ethereal figures” that could encourage a climber forward, lead them off a cliff, or any number of other things, if the testimonies in the book were anything to go by.

When he was done with his reading, he sat back in his seat, thinking about his current situation while idly watching the bustle of Piltovers main street outside his window.

_Okay, lets think about this._ Ezreal thought, having calmed down somewhat after his near-panic earlier. _There’s no way I’m backing out of this. Not worth taking the chance. I’m not a religious guy, but when a godlike figure tells you to do something in a dream, then leaves proof that it means business, you do it._

_As for how I go about this,_ Ezreal thought, writing down his plans as he went, _the quickest way to Targon would probably be to catch a boat from Bilgewater, those captains will do almost anything if you pay them enough._ He tapped his gauntlet-ed hand idly on the table, observing the dully glowing gems within. _Can’t get one straight to Targon, so my best bet would be to get one to a Shuriman port, then cover the rest on foot. Of course, there’s still the matter of climbing the enormous mystical god-mountain, but I’ll figure that out later._

Shutting his notebook and with a renewed purpose, Ezreal got up and strode out the door, down the steps of the library entrance onto the main street of Piltover.

Even by Piltover standards, it was particularly busy today, Ezreal observed, as he saw a donkey pulling a cart be overtaken by some Hextech contraption with a particularly reckless pilot. He continued walking down the street, taking in the sights and sounds of the heart of the city, until he saw an unassuming entrance to a side street. Darting into it, he continued his purposeful walk until he reached a nondescript-looking workshop, a sign above the door reading: _Jayce’s Workshop and Laboratory._

Ezreal opened it, looked inside briefly to make sure nothing was exploding (He knew from experience that with Jayce, that was a distinct possibility, though it the explosions were rarely accidental. Rather, the man just had very liberal standards on safe testing of volatile objects.)

Having ascertained that nothing in the workshop was exploding or about to do so, he strode in.

* * *

Jayce was elbow-deep in his prized Mercury Hammer, attempting to re-attach a power conduit, when he heard the sound of his door opening and somebody walking in.

“Go away.” He grunted, not even bothering to look up from his work.

A voice responded, “Normally I would, but this is kind of urgent.” Jayce recognized the voice immediately, partially because of the voice itself, and partially because Ezreal was one of the few people who wouldn’t back down from his infamously chilly attitude, as he had learned last time he had barged into his workshop asking for some device of his. _Guess the kid is still as impulsive as people say. Although its clearly working for him, what with his fame._

Once he finished his work on reassembling the Mercury Hammer, he turned around and drew himself up to his full height, noting Ezreal’s harried expression today. That certainly wasn’t normal, kid was usually unflappable. Jayce supposed he should care, but then he wasn’t known for being a caring person and he didn’t intend to start now.

With a sigh, he asked “What can I do for you, pipsqueak?”

Ezreal didn't even blink. "I need one of your single-use long-distance teleporter’s, preferably right now."

Jayce, somewhat taken aback, retorted, "and why the hell should I give you one of those, with no questions asked?"

Ezreal paused for a moment, then said rapidly, "because I received a vision in my sleep, this rock”-He pulled a black spherical rock with something engraved on it, and waved it in Jayce’s general direction- “randomly appeared in my room after being mentioned in the dream, and now I need to go climb Mount Targon, and I'm going to go to Bilgewater to do that."

Jayce blinked.

"What."

* * *

After he’d managed to get Ezreal to sit down at his workbench/coffee table, and explain in more detail what in the _fuck_ he was babbling about, Jayce wasn’t sure if he was more or less confused.

“So, let me get this straight.” Jayce said, holding a coffee mug and trying to act as casual as possible given the circumstances, “You received a dream-vision of some kind, with real world proof to confirm it”-Jayce pointed with his thumb at the rock, now sitting on the table-”Which told you that you need to climb Mount Targon. And you’re going to go to Bilgewater to get there.”

Ezreal nodded. “Yep. That’s pretty much everything.”

Jayce paused. “Wait. How did you even know I’ve been developing a long-range teleporter?”

Ezreal smirked at that. “I didn’t. Just thought you might have one. But thank you for confirming that you do.”

Jayce grumbled under his breath, “You are utterly insufferable.”

“What was that?” Ezreal asked cheerily, picking up the rock and idly tossing it between his hands.

Jayce put a hand on his head. “Nothing. If I give you the teleporter, will you go away?”

“Yep.”

Jayce got up, walked over to one of the many cabinets in the workshop, and pulled out a circular device with a blue glowing crystal and several buttons attached to it. He then tossed it to Ezreal, who caught it easily. “Buttons are color coded, the crystal will show an image of where you want to go, press the same button twice to activate. Clear?”

The last word was spoken to thin air and some blue hovering particles, a common residue of hextech energy discharge.

At this point, Jayce, who no longer had any reason to care what happened to the kid, turned back to his hammer and started tinkering with it again.

* * *

Ezreal’s arrival in Bilgewater was as abrupt as his departure from Jayces workshop. He sighed in frustration when he noticed he’d teleported into a particularly deep puddle, and muttered several obscenities under his breath when he felt water seep into his boots.

_At least,_ he thought, with a small amount of satisfaction, _I’ve arrived directly at the port, which is where I planned on going._ Stepping out of the puddle, he looked around and took in the port, in all its rowdy, smelly glory. To his right, he saw the coastline, and a ship hauling in what appeared to be a shark. Ezreal used the phrase “appeared to be” because he was fairly certain, unless his knowledge of the ocean was fundamentally flawed, that a shark was not supposed to be the size of a small building. As he observed the colossal shark, half a dozen men approached it with hooks, knives, and rope in hand to begin the process of taking anything off the carcass that they could sell.

To his left, there was the market, which had various scents emanating from it, some decidedly more enticing than others. At this point, he realised that he hadn’t eaten anything today in his rush to get to Bilgewater. Deciding to remedy that situation, he started meandering towards it, continuing to take in the city.

_It certainly isn’t Piltover,_ he thought to himself, as he observed two visibly drunk men brawling outside what he assumed to be a pub. _Not as clean, or as wealthy, or as lawful. But,_ Ezreal added somewhat charitably, _its also not nearly as snobby_. As he made his way into the marketplace, he began looking around for something to eat. Eventually, he saw a stall selling grilled fish, and more importantly, that looked like it paid at least a cursory amount of attention to food safety, which was saying something when the ones around it looked like their idea of food safety was “make sure the food isn’t trying to kill you when its served up.”.

Digging around in his pockets, he wordlessly handed the cook a handful of coins, and had a plate of fish thrust towards him in return. Nodding in thanks, he took it and sat on a nearby bench.

He was just about to dig into it when he felt a hand clap down on his shoulder and heard a gravelly sounding voice:

“Well, what do we have here?” the voice drawled, sounding almost bored.

_Well._ Ezreal thought eloquently.

_Shit._


	2. A New Alliance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezreal gains an ally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, first up, I know I promised a long chapter, and that its been ridiculously long since I first posted. Regarding the first, while this chapter isn't long, I'm still happy with it and how it turned out.
> 
> As for the second, life just happened. I'll do my best to make future updates significantly faster though.

Graves was having a staring contest with the bottom of a mug. It was empty, and had been for some time, on account of both it being far too early in the day to be under the influence, in Grave’s humble opinion, and the more pressing matter that he had only had enough coin to buy a single drink, even from a hole in the wall like the one he found himself in.

And it wasn’t even a particularly good hole in the wall, for crying out loud! _Absolutely no sense of_ _aesthetics_. Graves continued to himself indignantly, _for the gods sake, I’m pretty sure every other dive in this damn city has a skull painted on the sign. Wish they wouldn’t do that, it’d make it easier to tell em apart. Not like it matters at the moment._

For all he tried to distract himself from his current situation with internally ranting about _bar_ _aesthetics_ (He could hear Fate laughing at him in the back of his mind), he couldn’t deny that he was in a bit of a predicament. His last job had gone south, to say the least. _Smash-and-grab, they said. Easy money, they said,_ Graves remarked to himself bitterly.

Hence, sitting in an absolute dump of a bar, even by his own low standards, with no money, hiding from a pissed-off client (much as he hated to admit to hiding, rather than facing a problem head-on), minus his partner, and unsure of what to do next.

_Although I’m not really minus Fate;_ Graves remembered optimistically. _He’s a slippery bastard, and with his luck he won’t have had to lay low in somewhere like this because he’s got a bunch of lowlife goons on his ass. Bet anything he’s in the hideout right now, wondering where the hell I am-_

Graves train of thought was suddenly interrupted as the telltale sound of teleportation just outside grabbed his attention.

Fascinating as his mug was, he tore his eyes away from it, and looked outside to see- what in the godsdamned _hell_ did that kid have on his wrist?

_No, really_ , Graves wondered, _what IS that thing? I know hes doing the teleporting, the blue sparkles speak for that, but what is that on his hand? I know Piltie fashion is weird, but that’s a bit much._ As he continued to observe the kid and his shiny glove, Grave’s curiosity was only further piqued, as he saw him take out what looked like a golden plate, although with a crystal served up, as opposed to a cut of meat. The kid looked at it briefly, before pocketing it and furtively making his way into the market across the street.

_Fuck it,_ Graves thought to himself, after thinking briefly on whether he should investigate.

So he left his last handful of coins on the bar, grabbed the monstrous shotgun next to him, and wandered out the door.

* * *

Graves was almost surprised at how easy the kid was to track. _Clearly not a local, as if the glove and the plate weren’t enough._ Graves remarked internally. If the kid had been remotely familiar with the city of Bilgewater, he would recognize that casually walking around with what looked like a magical relic made you _interesting,_ and more importantly that being _interesting_ tended to translate into becoming a target of thugs, muggers, and other ne'er-do-wells.

After he caught up to him, Graves casually walked up and idly drawled; “Well, what do we have here?”

He did not expect the kid to jump and nearly drop his fish, then turn around and look at him like his death was imminent.

_Really?_ Graves thought to himself indignantly. _I am not that scary. Sure, I don’t exactly look like a nice guy, but I’m hardly some thug. I got more class than that, higher standards. Could a common thug afford a shotgun like Destin-_

_Oh. Shit. Yeah. The gun. Should probably holster that._

Graves lifted his shotgun off his shoulder to properly holster it, which inadvertently scared the kid further, if the squeaking noise he made was anything to go by.

“Relax, would ya?” Graves sighed. “I’m not going to shoot ya.”

“And why should I believe that?” The kid challenged, his gauntlet beginning to glow, alarming Graves.

“Hey, hey, hey, no need for that.” Graves hastily reassured. “Just wanna talk with ya, that a problem?”

The kid hesitantly lowered his gauntlet, and the light emanating off it faded away.

“Alright, what do you want to know?” He asked, sounding almost bored.

“Well, what was with the teleporting? Not exactly a common method of arriving in this city, if ya catch my drift.” Graves said, casually.

Immediately the kid tensed up, and his gauntlet, while it didn’t light up as bright as before, still began to glow dimly.

Graves, noting this, just laughed, before saying; “What, did ya think you were subtle? Ya teleported directly into the docks. Nobody did anything ‘cause you were out in the open, but they all saw ya. Soon as ya step foot in the market, ya become a target.”

The kid scoffed. “And what, you’ll provide protection, in exchange for all my money? We do have criminals in Piltover, you know.”

“Nah, I only do protection work for people that ask. Not worth the trouble otherwise.” Graves replied coolly.

“Then _what_ do you want?” The kid snapped, his patience clearly beginning to wear thin.

“To talk, kid.” Graves sighed. “Just wanna ask a few questions. Almost nobody makes an entrance like yours, and you doing that has my curiosity. That’s all.”

The kid ran a hand through his hair, thinking, before he sighed and straightened up. “Alright, I’ll answer some questions for you.” He conceded. “But you better not try and pull anything.”

Graves rolled his eyes at the continued suspicion, but he nodded regardless. “Alright. Walk with me.” He said, turning around and beginning to walk out of the market, the crowd scattering before his bulk.

The kid hesitated a moment longer, before following in his wake.

* * *

And so they walked down the port streets of Bilgewater, in the dim light of a cloud covered sun and in the shadow of the ramshackle buildings that made up the city.

The kid broke the (relatively) amiable silence first. “Alright, you said you wanted to ask questions, fire away.”

Graves thought for a moment. “Well whats your name, kid?”

The kid blinked, before looking at his larger acquaintance incredulously. “Really, you’re starting with that?”

“Well yeah. Can’t just keep calling you kid, can I?” Graves shot back easily.

They walked for a while longer, well past the port and into the suburbs, or at least what would be suburbs by Bilgewater standards, before the kid finally volunteered an answer.

“Ezreal.”

Graves started a little at the kid finally breaking the silence again, but rapidly recovered himself. “That your name, huh?”

“Yep.”

”Well, Ezreal,” Graves drawled; “what exactly were ya doin’ teleportin’ into the port, the busiest part of the city? Not exactly subtle now is it?”

“It wasn’t exactly intentional, I’m not that dumb.” Ezreal said petulantly, kicking a stray bottle in his path as he did so. It rolled into the gutter, continuing until a box also in the gutter stopped it.

Graves shrugged. “I’m no magician, so I won’t argue with that. Now,” he continued; “Why are you even here in the first place?”

To Graves surprise, Ezreal’s reaction was laughter, as opposed to the caginess he was expecting. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.” He said, sounding disbelieving himself.

Graves snorted and responded, “Try me. This is Bilgewater, this city practically runs on tall tales, and I’ve heard em' all. Guarantee whatever crazy comes out of your mouth, I’ve heard somethin’ crazier.”

“I need to climb Mount Targon.”

Graves raised an eyebrow at that. “Okay, ya got my attention, but I’ve heard taller tales. Thing is,” he paused for a moment; “ _why_ exactly do you need to do that?”

“Because I received a vision and also woke up with a really weird rock beside my bed with the word “CLIMB” on it.”

“...Okay, ya got me, I don’t buy it.”

Ezreal looked nonplussed for a moment, before tossing him a... rock? But a very strange looking one, black as the night with “CLIMB” engraved on it in elaborate golden font. But what truly intrigued graves was the smoke-like shifting on the rocks surface, despite it feeling like a normal rock in his hand.

“...Well, shit.” Graves finally said, begrudgingly admitting to himself that _maybe_ this kid Ezreal wasn’t talking out of his ass. Completely, anyway.

“So, this rock is clearly not normal;” Graves continued, “and I get that ya wanna climb Mount Targon. But did this little vision that ya had tell ya _why?_ ”

Ezreal huffed a laugh. “Something about changing the course of history, that’s all I have for you on that front.”

“Ya can’t be serious. That’s all you’re going off?”

“Yep.”

“...And _how_ are you going to get there?”

“Get a boat.”

Graves blinked in confusion. “But nobody sails to Targon, couldn’t pay _any c_ aptain enough to deal with that place.”

“Okay then, I’ll catch one to Shurima and go the rest of the way on land.” Ezreal shot back.

Graves just looked at his new companion in disbelief. “Do ya live under a rock, kid?”

“What? No!”

“Ya sure?” Graves queried skeptically. “Because you would have heard about the Noxian blockade, surely?”

The silence and frustration emanating off Ezreal carried the strong suggestion that no, he hadn’t heard about the Noxian blockade.

“...Did ya plan for this at all?” Asked Graves in disbelief.

“Nah, once I got here I was gonna catch a boat and wing it from there.” Ezreal said dismissively.

Graves could only stare in disbelief, before sighing and shaking his head.

“...What?” Ezreal asked defensively.

“I… never mind. Look, can I offer ya somethin?”

“Okay, shoot. Not literally.”

“Can myself and my partner join ya on this crazy quest?”

Ezreal abruptly stopped, forcing Graves to as well.

“...What? Why on Runeterra would you want to do that? You know Mount Targon is well known for killing people, don’t you?” Ezreal asked, incredulously.

Graves barked a laugh at that. “What, and you think being a merc is a safe job?”

“No, but do you have any idea what you’d be getting into?”

“Honestly? I wouldn’t.” Before Ezreal could continue protesting, Graves held up a hand, silently requesting that he be allowed to continue. The words on Ezreal’s tongue died and Graves continued.

“Look, I’m gonna lay my cards on the table. I’m out of money, and I’ve pissed off some dangerous people. Going with you solves both problems.”

Ezreal opened his mouth, then shut it. _He’s talking sense, I suppose,_ he mused. _And even if I can’t exactly trust him, I don’t think he wants he dead. He could have dragged me into any one of the alleys around here and shanked me if that was his goal._

After a little bit more consideration, Ezreal made his decision to strike a deal on a dingy intersection, with a man he barely knew.

“Alright, I’m in.”

“Thanks, kid.” Graves sighed in relief. “Now, follow me, we’re almost at my hideout.” Seeing Ezreal beginning to protest again, Graves threw him an _are-you-serious?_ look. “Look, you’ll need supplies, and you need a proper plan. We can get both at my hideout. Now, come with me.”

And with that, Ezreal’s new companion began to walk onwards through Bilgewater

After a few moments, and still with some wariness, Ezreal followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand like that Ezreal has a newfound ally. Next chapter Fate will be making an appearance, but thats all I'll say on it for now.
> 
> As with last time, if you liked the chapter please do leave kudos. Constructive feedback is also welcome, just please be nice about it.
> 
> See you (hopefully) not a month later.

**Author's Note:**

> So, thats the first chapter complete. I'll keep it vague, but next chapter we'll find out who that mysterious voice is. Also, the next chapter should be significantly longer than this one, hopefully.
> 
> If you enjoyed reading this please leave kudos. I also welcome any and all constructive criticism/feedback in the comments. Seriously, go nuts.


End file.
